


Flee Of The Wolf

by Somethingoutofnothing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And there's a lot of dialogue, Apparently I like having Stiles rant about things, Based Very loosely on The Proposal, Just the one scene though, M/M, timeline on this isn't exactly canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 11:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9322025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somethingoutofnothing/pseuds/Somethingoutofnothing
Summary: “When did you-”“-Around about emotionally constipated,” Derek replied before Stiles could even finish asking the question.“So you came back.” A nod from Derek. “You… Y’know… Heard what I said?” Stiles asked, trying (and failing) to stop the blush from spreading up his neck.“You called me flee-ridden.”“Yes. Yes, I did.”





	

“You know what the problem is, Scotty? The real problem. This man, this… Stubborn, self-sacrificing, emotionally crippled man, is a gigantic, wolf-sized pain in my ass. Firstly, there’s the whole leaving thing. And I get that, there’s only so many psychotic exes and near death and _actual death_ experiences a guy can take.” Stiles’ voice was quickly rising from slightly-pissed-off-but-still-a-respectable-volume, to extremely-pissed-off-and-drawing-attention-to-himself, but he only vaguely registered that everyone was starting to look at him in concern, like he was having a mental breakdown.   
  
Which, he supposed _in the loosest possible terms_ he kinda was. 

Stupid Derek Hale with his stupid letter and stupid smile and stupid personal growth.

Scott continued to watch on in stunned silence, looking for all the world like he wanted to say something but just couldn't seem to snap himself out of the daze Stiles’ fast-paced rant had caused him to fall into, for long enough to find the right words. So instead Scott seemed to have decided to look like someone had kicked his puppy, hoping against all hope that would be enough to shut Stiles up.

It wasn’t. Stiles was on a goddamn roll. Nothing short of the apocalypse would stop him. Even then, it was fifty/fifty.  
  
“Kinda stressful. Fine. Whatever,” Stiles continued as Scott got himself together enough to drag Stiles out of the room where _everyone_ was staring at him (Stiles would probably find time to be embarrassed by that later) and into a more private room.

“I could’ve gotten over the fact that he up and left without actually saying goodbye. I could’ve moved on. But then! Then what does he do? He comes back for your goddamn wedding- which was a really nice event, by the way, very elegant- Looking happy and light and _so frickin’ zen_ Scott, and he gives me this!” He held up the letter in Scott’s face as if it was personally responsible for the situation he’d found himself in. Which it was. Stupid letter. “Who does he think he is? And then he’s gone again! He didn’t even stick around to see if I read it! But I did! And you know what it’s full of Scott?”

Scott shrugged helplessly and sat down, seeming to choose the route of letting Stiles’ rant run its course. He was full-on yelling anyway, respectable volume be damned.

“It’s full of nice words. Apologies. Thankyous. And actual helpful information, that I’ve been trying to get out of Deaton _for months,_ I might add. And you know what it’s got, most of all? Answers, Scott. All the answers. Four years I was saving his furry ass. Four. Years. Four years of him acting like the biggest asshole on the planet, like he constantly had a massive stick stuck up his ass,” Stiles punctuated his statement with a gesture that was most definitely crude, but accurately enough depicted the scene of a stick stuck up an ass. It was almost artistic, if Stiles said so himself. 

“And hey, maybe that’s why he was so _emotionally constipated._ But that was fine, because I kept saving his ungrateful furry, flee ridden-”

“Stiles-”

 “-Beautiful ass, because I thought we were leading up to something, y’know? We were! There was something there, Scotty. Sure, he didn’t exactly express himself very well, but there was tension and towards the end, he definitely didn’t hate me. Maybe he was even a little fond of me-”

“He was,” Scott cut in, nodding his head in agreement. “He was definitely fond of you. Might even say he liked you.” 

“Right! And then he goes ahead and writes this? Which pretty much confirms it! Derek I-don’t-deserve-nice-things Hale actually liked me! It’s not- I can’t! Two years of radio silence, of not even knowing if he was alive, and then this crap?! Unbelievable!” 

“Are you done?” An amused voice asked from behind him. Stiles froze. He froze because he knew that voice, that voice was the same voice that about half an hour ago, had simply said ‘Stiles, this is for you’ and walked off without another word. Years ago, he’d thought he’d had that voice memorised, but it was different now. It sounded lighter. More carefree. Like the owner of it wasn't carrying the weight of the world. 

If nothing else, it effectively shut Stiles up. 

“Yeah. Done,” he replied eventually, turning to face Derek, arms crossed over his chest, face carefully blank. 

“When did you-”

“-Around about emotionally constipated,” Derek replied before Stiles could even finish asking the question. To Stiles’ dismay though, there was a quirk of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

“So you came back.” A nod from Derek. “You… Y’know… Heard what I said?” Stiles asked, trying (and failing) to stop the blush from spreading up his neck. He tried to muster up a glare to send at Scott’s back as his best friend slipped out of the room, leaving them alone, but his fight had left him as soon as he’d heard Derek’s voice. 

“You called me flee-ridden.”

“Yes. Yes, I did.” Stiles cleared his throat, feeling his face heat up despite his best efforts. “But you know, it was the heat of the moment. I really didn’t even know what I was saying. I’m sure your wolf form is pleasantly flee free. Try saying that ten times fast, huh?” Stiles laughed nervously. “I’m sorry about saying you have flees,” he said after a long pause, during which Derek seemed quite happy to keep quiet and just stare into his soul or something. 

“It’s okay,” Derek replied softly, and seriously, how was his voice that soft? The broken man that Stiles had known would never have been able to sound that gentle. That caring. That… _Affectionate._

More silence. At least that hadn't changed, Derek Hale still wasn't a big talker. 

“And for calling you emotionally constipated,” Stiles added. Because hey, while he was apologising, might as well go for broke. Derek seemed quite happy to just stand there and let Stiles make an idiot of himself. 

What else was new. 

“It’s fine Stiles-” Derek started, but Stiles apparently wasn’t even close to done. His mouth was apologising away without the permission of his brain. 

“And Stubborn and emotionally-crippled… And for calling your ass furry. I mean, technically it’s true, but still…” He shrugged. “And for calling you an asshole. Probably more than once. And especially for the stick up your ass thing…” He tried to recreate the gesture he’d used before, but that only managed to earn a concerned frown from Derek, followed by a vague look of disgust when he realised what Stiles was doing. 

“You can stop anytime, Stiles.” 

“I’m not sorry I called you a wolf-sized pain in my ass though. That’s totally true,” Stiles said, finally able to meet Derek’s eye. 

Derek tilted his head slightly and Stiles was definitely not comparing him to a puppy in his mind. Not at all. “That’s fair,” he murmured, taking a step towards Stiles. “Although I suggest you get used to it because this not at all flee ridden, wolf size pain in your ass is moving back to Beacon Hills.” 

“Seriously?” Stiles asked. He was pretty sure the shock was written all over his face. The whole pack had been pretty sure Derek was never coming back. Stiles had hoped, but he’d never actually thought… 

And yet there he was. In all his beautiful, annoying, pain in the ass glory. Derek Hale. 

“Yes, Stiles. Seriously,” Derek replied with an eyeroll. “And I’d like to very seriously take you on a date.” 

Stiles recovered from his shock quickly, quirking an eyebrow. “On one condition.” Derek lifted both his eyebrows in question. “No scratching your flees on my bed.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://somethingxoutxofxnothing.tumblr.com), I'll talk about anything.


End file.
